We need bread, a loaf of bread, but our “ration card” was up for this month. and there was no more. That meant, I would have to go and beg, I was use to it and would do it with not much thought.
Most times I took Rickety and went to Gimritz, the village 3 miles up the cobblestone street. It all was uphill and with a headwind hard to conquer. Strange thing was that on the way back home the winds always seemed to turn and I had headwind again. Sort of like life.. always headwind I think.
Gimritz was a village with the nicest people, I didn’t mind going there. People knew who I was and I never came home empty handed. Mr Henze would give me some flour, the butcher would give me some extra “Wurscht ” ( sandwich meant) and the baker would give me a little loaf. I was always so happy to run on home.. and make mom so happy. Getting her approval on anything was real hard, but coming home with food, I got it everytime!
This one day though, we were out, completely out of bread, and Gimritz was no option because Rickety had a flat. Not only did it have a flat, but there was nothing to fix it with.
Up the street, Mr Vopel always fixed Rickety for me. So I went to see him, but he said he had nothing to fix it with. Hanging my head I came back home with a limping Rickety. Now what? I had to go and try and find a loaf of bread in Brachwitz, and that was almost impossible. People weren’t as compassionate in Brachwitz as they were in Gimritz, don’t know why.
I tried, in spite of all odds to find a loaf of bread.
I went to one of the two bakeries we had. Number one shoo’d me away, so I tried the other one. Frau “D” said:”We don’t have any! I would not give up so easily. I said:” It doesn’t matter if it is a crooked, small and burnt one.. just please give me a loaf, we are hungry.”
She mumbled something under her breath and vanished into the backroom of her house. I waited and waited some more. Suddenly she reappeared, in her hand a loaf of dark, a bit burned bread.
She handed it to me and said: “Here you run along now and say hi to your mom!”
I ran home.. and that night, we ate. Burned bread? It never tasted better. Bless Mrs “D” Lord, we sure did that night!